


The Course of Human Events

by Isis



Category: Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: American Revolution, Fish out of Water, Gen, Historical References, Missing Scene, Not Canon Compliant, Time Travel, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-03-02 19:10:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2822942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isis/pseuds/Isis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On their way from Virginia to Philadelphia, Jamie Fraser and his sister Jenny Murray take a side trip...of just under 200 years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Course of Human Events

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Anndy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anndy/gifts).



> Takes place toward the end of _An Echo in the Bone_ , and, despite the source of the opening quote, contains no spoilers for _Written in My Own Heart's Blood_.
> 
> As per Anndy's (wonderful!) prompt, I've played a bit fast and loose with the way time travel works in this universe. *handwaves like whoa* Whatever! Happy Yuletide!

_"Jamie found us another ship, but it landed us in Virginia, and we'd to make our way up the coast, partly by wagon, partly by packet boat, keepin' out of the way of the soldiers."_ \- Written In My Own Heart's Blood

**May 22, 1778**  
 **Somewhere near the Chesapeake Bay**

Jenny wasn't sure exactly which of the colonies – no, they called themselves states now, she should remember that – they were in when the wagon-drover let them off by the crossroads near the estuary. He had assured them that they would find another ride in the seven hours before sunset. "And if not, the village is only a half hour's walk down that road, there." He pointed to the west; their road, the one they hoped to take, led northeast. "There's an inn there, owned by a family named Harrison. You'll find beds there if you need them."

Jamie thanked the man and handed Jenny down, then took their small bags off the wagon and gave the drover a coin. They watched him ride off toward the village, and Jenny wished they were still on the wagon to spare their feet, for like as not, they'd have to go there themselves. But it was still early in the day; they might find a ride yet.

They stood there for some time, watching the sun move slowly across the sky. The shadows of the trees became shorter, then lengthened again. They ate the bread and cheese Jamie had in his pack.

Jenny's back hurt miserably. She thought she might have strained it on the ship, and the jolting of the wagon hadn't done it any favors. Finally she could bear it no longer. "Jamie, I've an awful ache," she finally said. She waved toward the estuary side of the road, where a number of low rocks formed a half-circle facing the water. "Let's have a sit-down, shall we?"

She didn't wait for his response, but walked off the road and through the sward toward the rocks. It looked like they'd been laid out on purpose, a perfect set of benches for weary travelers.

"Och, Jenny!" cried Jamie behind her as she plopped her weary bum down on the nearest, but it was too late; she turned her head to a flash of lighting, to a hammer hitting her on the chest, and the last thing she saw was her brother's face, twisted in agony and apprehension, as he dove toward her.

* * *

She woke with a headache the likes of which she hadn't had since she'd been kicked by a horse as a girl, an ache throughout her entire body, and a dull roaring in her ears that sounded like the ocean. Hours must have passed, for dappled sunshine had been on them when they'd been left at the crossroads, and now it was raining, a cool mizzle that made her nostalgic for home.

"Are ye all right, Jenny?"

It was Jamie's voice, thank God, and she pulled herself to her unsteady feet and turned to him. "D'ye ken what happened, just then? I swear I was just sitting down –"

"Shh, shh." His strong arms enveloped her, and she collapsed into them gratefully.

"I've got the worst megrim. Was it lightning? I thought I saw lightning."

"Nay, lass." There was an odd tone to his voice, and she latched onto it.

"Not lighting? What, then? Did you see?"

"Did ye not think the arrangement of these stones a wee bit familiar?"

She looked around them at the arc of rocks. "Nay, not to me. Should they be?"

"Do they not look to ye a bit like the stones of Craigh na Dun?"

"Surely not!" she said, astonished. "The stones of Craigh na Dun stand up like pillars. These are laid as benches, for –"

A single roaring noise detached itself from the background, loud and getting louder. Jenny flinched, but Jamie's arms tightened around her reassuringly. "Dinna fash, Jenny."

"What's that, then?" Her voice cracked. It sounded as though a great monster was advancing on them from the north, growling and roaring and farting fit to knock down the entire world. It got louder and louder, and then something hurtled out of the woods by them, something like a carriage, but with wee small wheels close to the ground, and no horses pulling it, and it was bright red, to boot. It was obviously the source of the noise, which grew as it approached and then faded as it continued on the road they'd come from.

"It is something Claire told me of, I think," said Jamie, though he sounded a bit shaken as well. "Let's go back to the road, aye? I mislike being so close to these stones."

"All right." She gathered her skirts, and they walked back to the road. Which, she suddenly realized, looked a bit different than it had before. Where there had been packed dirt was now some odd stone that reached from side to side and extended along the road in both directions; she'd been too shaken to notice it earlier. "Jamie?"

"Hush, lass."

"Don't ye hush me," she began, but then she stopped. That noise again, from the south, this time. "Is it coming back?"

"Another one, I should think," said Jamie in a tight, strained voice. They watched as another strange wagon came roaring up the road on its wee small wheels. Jenny looked at it curiously as it pulled to a stop at the crossroads and the roaring faded to a low hum like that of a beehive.

The glass window of the carriage door slid down into some hidden pocket, and a face appeared in the window frame. "You guys going to Springfield, or to Occoquan?"

* * *

Jamie focused on the horizon as best he could through the front window of the automobile. It didn't shake as much as a ship on the waves, but the speed it moved at was unsettling, and the rumble it made traveled right through his bones into his wame. It wouldn't do to throw up in this tiny space; not only would it be rude to the frighteningly-young woman piloting the thing, it would also stink terribly, and he had but the one set of clothes on him.

Neither of the towns she'd mentioned had been familiar to him, and at any rate, it would be best not to get too far away from the stone circle. They had clearly traveled into the future, perhaps into Claire's time, though of course they were in the United States now, not in England. He had fought down the sudden clench of emotion that flooded him, the desire to go right back into those stones and return to her side. But he remembered her telling him how dangerous the time-traveling was, how badly it weakened the traveler, especially one who was no longer young. He felt as though he'd been turned inside-out, and Jenny clearly felt no better.

They'd go into the town, whichever was closer, to rest and recover, and gird themselves for another trip through the stones. Because he had to get back to Claire. They both had to get back.

They had been spared the necessity of choosing a destination by the young lass herself. "Never mind, you must be going to Historyfest, right? I didn't notice your costumes at first. That's an amazing dress."

"Thank you?" ventured Jenny. Jamie reached for her hand and squeezed it; no doubt she was even more discomposed than he, who at least had Claire's stories of the future to prepare him.

"Looks super-authentic," said the woman. "Anyway, get in, I'll give you a ride. Just push the books in the back over to the side. Don't worry about getting the seats wet, it's fine."

It took him a moment to figure out how the rear door opened, with a handle that had a button to the side that had to be pushed at the same time. He handed Jenny in; her skirts took up nearly the whole of the space, so he bent forward, saying apologetically, "I'll have to sit up front wi' you, lass, if ye dinna mind."

The driver laughed. "Sure, I'm not a chauffeur. And I bet you hear this all the time, but your accent is just adorable. I guess you're going to be on the English side?

He suppressed his instinctive anger as he gingerly worked the front door-handle and slid his large frame into the front seat. It would not do to be rude to the lass giving them a lift. "We're from Scotland," he said, briefly, and behind him he heard Jenny's snort. Aye, she knew what he was tempted to say.

"Wow, did you come all this way just for the festival?"

"Nay, we've kin in Philadelphia. This is only a short stop along the way." Or so he fervently hoped.

"You're staying at the grounds? You must be, you don't have any luggage. Though – you didn't bring sleeping bags, did you?"

"No?" He wasn't entirely sure what a "sleeping bag" might be, but he doubted he had one. The only thing he'd had with him when he had rushed after Jenny was the canvas pack he carried with their food and the needles that gave him relief from the sea-sickness.

They sped through the drizzle. Jenny, behind him, was unnaturally quiet, and no wonder. He was not looking forward to the explanation he'd have to make.

"I'll take you over to the check-in tent, then, and someone there can get you settled," the driver said, taking a corner at a speed that made his innards perform somersaults. She maneuvered the automobile between two rows of stationary automobiles, turned again, then came to a stop. "I love Historyfest. I mean, it's not Yorktown or anything, but it's great to have our own little re-enactment, you know? I'll probably come tomorrow or Sunday. Here you go."

They got out and thanked the woman, who complimented them again on their clothing and accents, then sped off.

"D'ye mind telling me wha' just happened?" asked Jenny, in a low, subdued voice.

Jamie sighed. He had told Claire he wouldn't tell anyone, but circumstances had changed. And if anyone would take the concept of time travel with equanimity, it would be his sister. "So, then. Ye ken how I told ye those stones had the look of Craigh na Dun? That's how my Claire came to us. She came from this time, a world of carriages that move on their own faster than horses, and of young lasses that are as forward as any a man."

"The stones, ye say." Her voice was entirely even, and he couldn't tell yet whether she believed him.

"Aye."

"Och, weel, no wonder I've got such an ache in my head. But why dinna we just go back through, then?"

Sanguine lass, he thought, with some pride. He explained about the danger, and about his thought that it would make more sense to rest overnight and then return to the stone circle to attempt the journey back to their own time. "And when the young lassie stopped for us, I suppose it just seemed like we ought to go wi' her, since it was a kind offer she made."

"Did ye ken what she was sayin' to ye about the festival?"

Jamie shook his head. "Not one word, Jenny. Not one word."

* * *

They found what looked to be the main tent and diffidently presented themselves to the man who seemed to be in charge, a corpulent, bearded military man who barely fit into his jacket. Jamie squinted at his insignia, wondering which regiment he might be in, until he remembered that they were in Claire's time now, or something much like it. All the regiments he'd known were long since dust.

"Welcome to Historyfest!" said the man jovially. "Names?"

"I'm James Fraser, and my sister Janet Murray."

The man wrote their names down. "And which society are you with?"

"Pardon?" said Jamie.

"Which re-enactment club do you belong to?"

"Och, none. The young lass who took us here said we might find a place to stay for the night, if it's nae trouble for ye?"

The man looked at them for a moment, then burst out laughing. "Nicely in-character! Are you actually from England?"

"Scotland," said Jenny through her teeth.

"Awesome! Okay, if you want to set up your tent you can do it over there." He waved off toward his left. "I take it you're part of the Loyalist faction – that's where they –" He cut off abruptly, as Jamie leaned over the desk, _looming_ over him with his full height, closing the distance between their faces to mere inches.

Jamie pitched his voice low and dangerous. "Now, laddie, why would ye think a thing like that?"

"...because you're English? " he squeaked.

"Why, you," Jamie sputtered. He was about to deliver a few choice insults in Gaelic when Jenny put a firm hand on his arm.

"Ye'll keep a civil tongue in your head, Jamie! We're guests here, an' we must be polite. He dinna mean anything by it," she added soothingly, to the now white-faced man in army clothing. "Only he fought for the Colonials, d'ye ken? And I told you, we're Scottish, not English," she added. "I am sorry for the stramash, but we do need a place to bed down. Show us to your Colonial troops and we'll just sleep wi' their drovers, aye?"

Jamie swallowed back his anger. Jenny was being sensible; they should be quiet and polite, and just find a place to sleep. It was probably the after-effects of having gone through the stones that made him so tetchy. His head and stomach still hurt, and he really did want to lie down and sleep, even though it was still only early in the afternoon.

"All right," said the man. He was no longer smiling, and his voice had turned brisk and business-like. "The Colonial militia's encampment's on the east side of the field. You can set up there. The first battle's at ten a.m. tomorrow, and –"

"Battle?" said Jamie. He frowned. "The lass said it was a festival."

"It's a re-enactment festival," the man said, drawing the words out slowly, as if he thought Jamie was short on wits. "We let the spectators in at nine, first battle's at ten, then we do another at two. Here's a map and a schedule."

"I'll have those," said Jenny, reaching across to pluck the papers out of the man's hand. With her other hand she grabbed Jamie's arm. "Thank ye kindly. We'll be off, now, won't we, Jamie."

* * *

"A battle! These wee fools think to have a battle!"

"Dinna fash, Jamie," she reassured him. At least she'd managed to forestall his temper until they were out on the field, walking to where the man had told them the Colonials had their encampment. "He said re-enactment. It's no' but a pretend battle, ken?"

"But I've been there. I'm going back there. And it isnae a thing anybody'd want to pretend, Christ, all the bodies, all the blood."

"Aye, Jamie, aye," she said, patting him on the arm. "Come, we'd best find a place to set ourselves out o' the way." She led him to the edge of the group of tents, near to the forest at the end of the meadow. They were odd-shaped tents of the brightest colored cloth she'd ever seen, and if she hadn't been convinced by the ride in what Jamie had told her was called an 'automobile', those colors alone would have persuaded her that they truly had moved forward in time. Hard to believe, still, that those rocks could hurtle them through time. Though she had to admit that it would explain some of the odd things about her good-sister Claire.

The drizzle had stopped while they'd been talking to the fellow in the administrative tent, and it hadn't been heavy enough to get the ground beneath the largest trees more than just damp. They found a dry enough spot large enough to spread their cloaks as bedding; it wouldn't be the most comfortable place she'd slept, thought Jenny, but it wouldn't be the worst, either.

She spared a thought for their bags, still by the stones in their own time. They had nothing but the clothes they had on, and the food in Jamie's pack; at least they wouldn't go hungry, though if they had it would be no great matter as well.

She sat on a fallen log by the edge of the forest, which had a good view of the goings-on in the meadow. People were still setting up tents and arranging campsites; a few men were drilling, marching back and forth, shouldering and hoisting muskets. She patted the space beside her. "Sit wi' me and we'll watch the great show."

He set himself down on the log, his face still tight and angry. "Look at them," he muttered. "Fools who dinna have any idea of what happens in real battle and real war."

"Then they're lucky ones, and ye shouldna mind their playing," she said firmly. "Here, let's look at this that the mannie at the front gave to us. Isna this the finest paper you ever did see?" She laid it on her lap and smoothed it out under her fingertips, marveling at the texture.

Jamie glanced down at the paper, then snatched it off her lap. "Good Christ!"

"What is it?" This time she looked at the words, not just at the paper. There was a date across the top of the page, but the words were in an odd typeface, and it took a moment for the meaning of the shapes to sink into her head. "Saturday, May twenty-second, nineteen hundred and seventy-six," she read. "Why, that's nearly two hundred years!"

"And that's not all," he said, his finger stabbing at the page. She looked at where he was pointing, at the bottom of the list of events that were on the schedule for this day and the next.

_Historyfest is sponsored by the Occoquan Historical Society, the Virginia Historical Society, the Daughters of the American Revolution, and the First Virginia Regiment of the Continental Line. Happy Bicentennial!_

"Bicentennial," he said, his voice hushed and awestruck, as though he were in a cathedral. "Claire told me we'd won, and – I dinna disbelieve her, but there's something about seeing it in print, ye ken?"

"Och, Jamie, you're a printer," she said, teasingly. "Ye ken full weel that they can print anything they like!"

They looked out at the men parading on the field. Some were in military uniform, others in denim trousers and bright shirts. Jamie sighed. "I suppose they just mean to honor us wi' their marching and battle-play."

"Aye. You, and Young Ian, and all who fought wi' you."

For a time they sat on the log, resting, watching. The sky cleared as the sun dipped toward the horizon, the remaining clouds lighting up in pink and red and bright vermillion, every bit as colorful as the tents of the encampment. Among the campsites fires were lit, adding their own shades of orange and red to the mix. Jamie got apples and cheese from his pack for their supper and handed a portion to Jenny.

As they started to eat, a slender man of about forty detached himself from the group around the nearest fire and approached them. "There's room at our fire if you want to come over. Extra camp stoves, too, if you don't want to cook on the fire."

"Thank ye, lad," said Jenny, "but we've no' that needs cooking."

"Well, if you want a hot meal, we've got extra Dinty Moore. And we'll be singing afterward." He grinned. "Rick told me you'd come over from Scotland. I'm the Quartermaster of the First Virginia Regiment, and I just don't feel right seeing guests sitting over here on the sidelines while we've got extra food."

"That's right kind of ye, son," said Jamie, getting to his feet. "I'm Jamie Fraser, and this is my sister Jenny Murray, and we're much obliged t'ye for your hospitality." The young man looked surprised when he held out his hand, but he shook it.

"I'm Bill, nice to meet you." As they followed him toward the fire, he added, "If you want to join our irregulars for tomorrow –"

"Nay, it's no' but the night we're stayin'. We've an early ride waiting for us at the crossroads tomorrow morning."

"How early? I've got to go pick up some more gear tomorrow before the crowds show, so I can give you a lift, if you like."

"We dinna want to be –" started Jamie, but Jenny interrupted.

"We'd be grateful for that, lad. Bill," she added, and the smile he gave her made her wish, for a moment, that she was staying here for a little while longer; though really, he was far too young for her.

Jamie grabbed her by the elbow to hold her back for a moment. "I dinna want him to see us goin' to the stones," he whispered, close to her ear.

"Fine, and so we wait for him to go off on his wee errand after he leaves us. But I willna give up my last chance in this world to ride once more in one of those automobiles!"

In the firelight, Jamie's face looked a bit green. But then he set his jaw grimly. "I suppose, when you put it like that? It will be a joy to think it willna happen again!"

* * *

The sun was not far over the horizon, lighting up the thin layer of fog that covered the land, when Bill dropped them off at the crossroads. "Pretty isolated out here. You sure you don't want me to wait?"

"We'll be fine," Jamie assured him. They thanked him for everything – not only had he found them extra stew for supper, and bowls and spoons to eat it with, he'd also insisted that they sleep in the big tent that his re-enactment group used as a headquarters, and badgered someone into loaning them a blanket. "Go on, now."

They watched him drive off. "Bicentennial," Jamie said softly to himself, shaking his head. It was one thing to be told this country that he had fought for would endure for two hundred years. It was another to see it with his own eyes. Then he took a deep breath, and turned to Jenny. "Well, Jenny? Are ye ready to face the return journey?"

She nodded.

"Fix Young Ian's face in your mind, now." He remembered Brianna telling him that was the way to get to a particular time, and not to be at the mercy of the stones. A sudden pang hit him – was this Brianna's time? Was she here, somewhere in this world, or was she still – no, he couldn't think of her. It was Claire he needed to think of, his Sassenach, his touchstone and his anchor, his heart.

"Claire," he murmured to himself, and beside him, Jenny smiled; and together they stepped forward, into the stone, back to the world they knew.

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks to my beta-readers, Dira Sudis and Steph.
> 
> Occoquan, Virginia is a real place. The [First Virginia Regiment of the Continental Line](http://www.1va.org/) is a real re-enactment group. "Historyfest" is entirely made up.


End file.
